


Penny

by LJC



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJC/pseuds/LJC
Summary: The only thing worse than Foggy's obsession with the price of fresh tuna was Foggy's insistence that Matt should get a seeing-eye dog.





	Penny

**Author's Note:**

> For my Boo, who left me the Foggy & Matt "I want a pet" prompt in my asks BECAUSE SHE LOVES ME AND IS MY BEST FRIEND AND ALSO AWESOME.

After beating the crap out of four gangbangers, two purse snatchers, one guy who tried to rob the bodega around the corner, and Turk Barrett just _because_ , Matt was dragged out of the depths of dreamless, exhausted sleep by his phone.

_Foggy Foggy Foggy Foggy Foggy Foggy Foggy..._

Wincing (one of the 'bangers got in a lucky punch to his kidney's in before he knocked him out with the baton), he retrieved the flip phone from the pocket of his jeans which were still on the floor where he'd left them before changing into the suit.

"Hey, buddy," Matt muttered into the phone, crawling back under the duvet.

"Were you asleep?"

"It's—what time is it?" 

"Um... night-time?"

It actually took Matt two tries to hit the clock next to his bed, which made an obnoxious sound and then announced in a bored female voice _4:12 o'clock A.M._

"It's four in the morning. Is everything OK?"

There was a long pause, and in the background, Matt could hear a cacophony of voices, all shouting. Some in Italian, some in English, some in Japanese.

_Fuck._

"You at the fish market?" 

"No," Foggy said, and then paused. "Maybe."

Another pause.

"Yes."

After ten years spent as Foggy's wingman, he had a fair idea why Foggy was at the fish market. At least once every few years, when the bars closed, Foggy became _obsessed_ with arguing about the prices of fresh fish. After years of unsuccessfully trying to talk him out of it, Matt usually ended up giving up and just going with him. Which hadn't been so bad, when the market was still in the Financial District (though the stench in July hadn't been fun, and neither had freezing their asses off in the middle of January), but was a bona fide _pain in the ass_ once it moved to the new location at Hunts Point. 

(At least the new space was temperature-controlled and hosed down daily. And with the advent of Uber, they could at least avoid a two hour trip via mass transit, while carrying fresh fish.)

"You need a dog," Foggy said, and Matt groaned, and buried his head under the pillow. 

The only thing worse than Foggy's obsession with the price of fresh tuna was Foggy's insistence that Matt should get a seeing-eye dog.

"No, Foggy."

"I want a pet."

"So get a pet." 

"I can't—Marci's allergic to, _like_ , everything. Dogs, cats, birds, ferrets, dogs, horses—"

With a long-suffering sigh, Matt rolled over onto his back. "OK, I'm pretty sure your landlord wouldn't let you get a horse anyway."

"Even those freaky hairless cats, and the poodles they say are hypoallergenic. I can't even get a _lizard_. Remember in college, when I had the iguana?"

"Oh shit, yeah."

"If the guy who sold me weed hadn't had that anaphylactic shock kit—"

"Wait, the guy down the hall was your dealer? I thought you hung out with him because you were studying for Tort Law together."

"Please—I _aced_ Tort Law. Also, dude had serious BO issues."

"And apparently a deadly peanut allergy."

"That, too."

"But here's the thing— _you_ could get a dog, and then it would be _just like_ I had a dog! Then Marci wouldn't be able to veto it, because dude, nobody wants to take away the blind guy's guide dog."

"There are so many problems with this plan, I don't know where to begin. First of all, having a dog is a big responsibility. There's vet bills, and you'd have to walk him and feed him and play with him—"

"Matty, I can do all of those things."

"Really?" Matt laughed. "You're gonna show up at 5am at my apartment every day, to take the dog out?"

"Wow, that's really early. Even on Saturdays?"

"Yes, Foggy. Even on Saturdays. Even in winter, when it's twenty below out. Or summer, when there is no air-conditioning. Like, all the time."

"Can't you just open the door and let him out to do his business?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I mean, service dogs are supposed to be really, really smart."

"Doesn't matter. No opposable thumbs."

"That's true."

"And the bills alone are a really big deal—we're talking your _entire_ monthly pizza, taco, sushi, pretzel, and beer budget. There's vet bills, boarding, dog walkers, grooming, and gear and stuff. Not to mention, I don't actually _need_ a guide dog. Do you really want me—who gets around just fine with a cane—to take a dog that somebody else _really_ needs? Cos there's a waiting list for trained service dogs. People can wait up to _four years_."

"That's a really long time." Foggy said. "That's, like, _college_ long."

"Yep."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"Because every time you and whatshisame from L&Z—the one with the voice like the parrott in _Aladdin_."

"Which voi—oh, wait. Lewis."

"Every time you and Lewis did tequila slammers, you'd call me up and tell me how I should get a dog. Because I was blind. And because you wanted a dog. So I had to remind you of all of the reasons why I shouldn't, can't, and won't get a dog. For you. Or for me."

"Really? I don't remember that."

"I know. Also, that's why Josie won't let you order tequila."

"Really? I just thought she didn't like me."

"No, she definitely doesn't like you. But I bribed her, when we left Landman & Zack, because I got really tired of answering the phone after the bars closed."

"OK, but what about the rejects?"

"What?"

"You know, the loser dogs that wash out of basic training. Doggie boot camp. That."

"It's not the _Marines_ , Foggy."

"Yeah, but don't like half or a third of the puppies they train flunk the penny test and not graduate? You could totally adopt one of them."

"Penny test?"

"Yeah--not, like, with tyres. Like, one of the tests is they take a whole change jar full of pennies and they hold it right up next to the dog's head, and shake it. And if the dog doesn't _freak out_ , then they graduate the dog school."

Matt was pretty sure that at this rate, _he_ wouldn't be able to pass the penny test.

"Or _you_ could just get a _goldfish_."

"But you can't pet a goldfish. You can't play frisbee in the park with a goldfish. I mean, you could, but then you wouldn't actually have a goldfish anymore, because fish need to be in water to _live_ , Matt."

Matt's urge to put his very expensive organic buckwheat pillow in its even more expensive raw silk pillowcase over his head and _scream_ was growing stronger by the second.

"OK, look at it this way—what's more important to you: having to get up at 5am _in the dead of winter_ to walk a golden retriever that will cost upwards of $200 a month once you factor in your building's pet deposit, or after-hours naked time with your girlfriend?"

There was another long, ponderous pause. Also, at least three people in Foggy's general vicinity were on the verge of an all-out brawl over some sushi-grade white tuna. And the goddam birds outside Matt's goddam windows were waking up.

"Fog?"

"I'm thinking."

" _Seriously?_ "

"A golden retriever would be so _cool_ , though. They'd bring me my slippers, and the paper, and stuff."

"On TV, maybe. Not in real life, they don't." 

"Marci doesn't even bring me coffee from the coffee cart when she goes out to the coffee cart. She doesn't even ask me if I want anything, before she goes. I mean, who does that?"

"I'm going out on a limb here, and say 'Marci'."

"She's so mean sometimes."

"I agree. Sometimes Marci is not very nice."

"Hey! Don't talk shit about my girlfriend. That's not buddies."

Matt closed his eyes. Which, being blind, was actually pretty much completely pointless. Plus Foggy wasn't even there to see the face he was currently making. 

"Foggy, I have court in the morning. This morning. _Today_. I have to be in court in less than five hours. And so far, I have only been asleep for one hour. That's it. Just one."

"You wanna go back to sleep?"

Matt sighed. "Little bit, yeah."

"OK, but this week-end, can we go to the dog park? And watch the dogs?"

"You wanna stalk other people's pets?"

"Sometimes people let you pet their dogs." Foggy sounded really excited. 

"Not service dogs, though."

"Really?"

"Nope. They're on the job. No petting."

"Oh." Foggy sounded so sad, like someone had kicked his non-existent golden retriever puppy. And for a heart-stopping moment, Matt was afraid Foggy was going to burst into tears. Right there, in the middle of the New Fulton Fish Market. And then possibly get stabbed by one of the three guys who was now passionately yelling about tuna. Because those sorts of things seemed to happen to him more than they ought.

"How 'bout, instead of the dog park, we go to the shelter and look at the dogs up for adoption? Just look at them. Through the window."

"That would be awesome! Yes! We should totally do that. Can we do that?"

"We can do that. Gonna hang up now, Fog."

"OK. OK, I'm gonna go argue with a buncha guys about fish. It's gonna be awesome."

"Enjoy. And no more tequila, buddy. OK? Promise me."

"Go to sleep, you have court."

Matt flipped the phone closed, set it on the bedside table, and prayed to God and all the saints and angels that Foggy wouldn't remember the conversation once he'd sobered up.

And that's the story of how Matt ended up adopting a 24 month old golden retriever who had failed the penny test and was called Buttercup (for all of five minutes, until Karen decided clearly her name was Penny), and Matt 100% would never _ever_ call _Daredog_ no matter how many times Foggy told him it would be _awesome_ and just like Ace the Bat-Hound. 

(It's also the story of how Marci very nearly broke up with Foggy, and instead made him strip off in her front hallway, and then shower and change clothes every single time he came over. For three and a half years.)


End file.
